God created light and it was good.
Until it shines on my dining room chairs and shows the dust I didn’t notice when the room was dim.

Some might argue that this just demonstrates the essential goodness of light. It exposes uncleanness.
Have pity. I am much too busy to dust my chairs.
A little dust never hurt anyone.
The dust cloth makes my hands feel funny.
And in a few hours the sun will move away and leave me and my dust in happy ignorance of each other. Till tomorrow.

Another complaint about light.
These lovely spring lights. See how they glow in the dark?

But that attention-grabbing sun with its ‘I can shine brighter than you’ beams all but
obliterates my pretty little pastels. You can’t even tell the bulbs are lit where the light hits them.

Light claims all glory for itself. Shine in the darkness, I’m told. Oh, sure. But the greater light, the I Am light, gets the glory while my tiny glow is virtually unnoticed.

Pitiless Light doesn’t let me sit at the foot of the cross in darkness, wallowing in tears and  ‘I knew this was too good to be true’ wailings.
It bursts out of an empty tomb and beckons me gleefully. “Arise! Shine! Your light has come! God’s face is shining on you! The day is at hand so cast off the deeds of darkness!”

I loiter in the shadowlands, weeping.
No, I know that sin has won. Might as well remain clinging to it.
Reluctant to move, because I also know the Light is merciless.
Oh, the dust I have accumulated! It will all be seen!
My feeble attempts at luminescence? Swallowed up in the devastation of the totality of Light.

Who knew Light had knowledge, and tenderness, and mercy? Who knew Light first shines on my dusty, dried-up frame, then outshines my feeble attempts to light my own way, and finally burns away the sin and separation and love of all that is dim and despairing? It grabs hold of my hand and drags me into its searing warmth and cleansing fire. What can I do? Light wins, and I learn, to my shock, that so do I.
“Because I have sinned against him, I will bear the LORD’s wrath, until he pleads my case and establishes my right. He will bring me out into the light; I will see his righteousness.”
Micah said it first but I am right there with him—half a syllable behind but heartfelt and grateful for lessons in spring lights and sermons in dusty dining room chairs.